Blind Run - Epilogue
by Sylvie Orp
Summary: Bodie saves Doyle's life, but Doyle gets the girl - how did that happen! Follow up from the end of 'Blind Run'


Bodie should have been the one to interrogate Leia. From his experiences in the Middle East, he could at least pronounce her name properly - and he'd saved her life - and Doyle's. But Doyle had muscled in and swept her off to some posh restaurant. But, dressed as they were - scruffy in one case; bloodied in another; sweaty and dirty in both cases - Bodie couldn't think where his partner could take her. Doyle had that annoying 'cat that's got the cream' look as he anticipated the evening - and the night - ahead. So Bodie was left alone and adrift on the quayside as his car drove off. But Leia wasn't the only bird on the block. There was the feisty and rather alluring Philippa. He remembered those flashing eyes. But if only he could remember her phone number! As he began to walk he was thinking dark thoughts about his mate as he plodded back they way they'd come, hopping on and off a few buses, but always keeping the canal in view. It was nearly an hour before he arrived near the spot where they'd abandoned poor Philippa's wrecked barge and had left her there, angry and confused.

Bodie approached cautiously, not knowing if she was still there. He saw a copper leave the barge. He waited in the shadows till the man had gone and then waited a little longer for Philippa to calm down. He then approached as nonchalantly as he could as though he strolled along towpaths out of habit. Once in front of the boat, he hesitated. Did he call out, whistle, or just jump aboard? Naval vessel etiquette he could deal with; civilian barges left him confused. He boarded tentatively and called out softly, not wanting to frighten her - though she didn't strike him as the hysterical sort. She wasn't on deck and didn't respond to his call. Perhaps she wasn't there, and the copper had been looking for her rather than interviewing her as he'd assumed? He poked his head down the wheelhouse, knocking on the door frame - or what was left of it. Nothing. Curious, he tentatively crept down the steps. He was going to call out again - he was feeling a little foolish now - when he heard a noise. He stood quietly at the bottom of the steps till he could identify it. Sobbing. A barge isn't a large vessel and there are few places to hide, should you want to, so it didn't take Bodie a moment to locate Philippa in the lounge. She was sat amongst the wreckage weeping. Bodie felt something he hadn't felt in a very long time - guilt. He watched her for a few moments before coughing dryly and quietly to announce his presence. She looked up. Her face was a mess - mascara running down her cheeks in black rivulets, her eyes puffy and her hair more of a state than the lounge. He sat on the bench opposite uninvited. He saw a sequence of emotions run across her mobile face. Her surprise at seeing him back on board turned to anger at the chaos he'd left behind, which turned then to hopelessness at her dream which lay in ruins around her feet. Over all was confusion at how all this could have happened in so short a time. One moment she was living her dream on the canals of England, minding her own business, the next she was dodging bullets as men and women swarmed over her precious home and left it in shreds. One woman, she reflected - and a very beautiful and exotic woman at that; haughty and calm. Icy calm. The men - those who were left unscathed - certainly seemed in awe of her. Despite the dangerous circumstances, they were practically falling over themselves to lie at her pretty feet. Philippa had met a few women like that. They knew their power and used it mercilessly. Her sister, Monica, had been like that. 'Femme fatale' was a description that, tragically, had fitted her well. Her beauty, and the power it gave her, had led to her death. But that was a family secret she shared with no-one, particularly this rather handsome man sat opposite her looking so guilty that it gave him a boyish charm. Perhaps he too knew his sexual power. Was there an equivalent - an 'homme fatal'?

"I am sorry about all this, Philippa," Bodie started off. He had to be familiar as he didn't know her surname.

He did sound sincere, but Philippa was determined not to give in to him. She'd been walked over and taken advantage of too many times her life and had lived in her late sister's shadow for years.

"You said you'd pay for this." She tried to maintain her anger but felt it slipping from her grasp.

"I did and I will. I try not to break my promises, Philippa. So why don't I take you to dinner for a start? I can book you into a hotel …"

Philippa's look was somewhere between shock and anger.

"It's ok. It's ok. I was only suggesting that you couldn't stay here tonight." They both looked about them at the mess. "Look, pack a bag and let's get out of here."

Philippa wanted to argue just for the sake of arguing. She needed to vent her feelings out on someone and here was her target. Problem was, she had no ammunition to fight him with, and no armour against his obvious attraction. He genuinely did look sorry for the turmoil. She let the silence hang for a moment as though coming to a difficult decision, and then agreed. As they left, Bodie remembered that he hadn't got his car. He was very tempted to contact Doyle and drag him away from his date to pick them up. After all, not all of Philippa's problems were down to him. Since it would take too long to trace his partner, he flagged down a taxi which dropped them at his flat. He picked up some money, left his gun behind safely locked away, and quickly changed, leaving Philippa to buy some essentials at the local shops to tide her over for a few days. She was going to make the most of the ten pounds Bodie had shoved into her hand. He had explained in the taxi who he was, and may have convinced her that he couldn't go into details about what job he had been on. He didn't tell her that he'd seen the copper leave the boat. He didn't want her to think he was stalking her, so said, "You'll need to tell the cops about your barge."

"I have. Don't worry about that." She was still trying to sound angry, and still failing. "They didn't believe what happened so what chance do I have with the insurance company?"

Bodie heard the despair in her voice and agreed to cobble some sort of statement together for her (with Cowley as ghost writer). They took another taxi to a middle-priced hotel and Philippa was quietly relieved that Bodie didn't try to sweet-talk her into a double room and into her bed. They had dinner at the hotel. It had been some time since she'd enjoyed a man's company and she found him better company than she wanted. At the end of a quiet and very pleasant meal, Bodie kissed her cheek in a very brotherly and platonic way and said he'd be in touch next day with a statement for her insurance company. She watched him leave with a feeling almost akin to wistfulness. She hadn't wanted the evening to end. She had wanted him in her bed; she had wanted to wake in the morning feeling his arms around her. Then she thought of her sister Monica and her easy way with men; and where it had led her. Monica had been the worldly one but, in the end, too trusting and had been murdered for that one mistake she had made about a man's character. _Perhaps_ , Philippa pondered philosophically, _being alone is safer in the end but, hell, it wasn't much fun!_


End file.
